


The Height Advantage

by queensburner



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fluff, Height Differences, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensburner/pseuds/queensburner
Summary: “Yeah, maybe, but it’s nothing you need to worry over,” Caspar’s eyes shifted to the corner of the room.  “I just don’t want to seem weak in front of you.”Linhardt lifted Caspar’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of them.  “I would never think that you were weak.  Will you please let me heal you?”
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	The Height Advantage

The pair had settled into a new inn somewhere along the southern border of Dagda, the Right Pearl Inn, or some such name. They had stayed in so many with such similar names that they all had a tendency to blur together. After all, Linhardt’s mind only had room for so many things, and there was so little that caught his interest.

Crests, of course, were the obvious one. He could spend hours reading about them and still never run out of questions. Of course, it may well be impossible to truly prove the answers to some of the mysteries of Crestology. Scholars like himself could draw correlations all they liked, but a true double-blind study was impossible. Well, not entirely impossible, he supposed, but certainly immoral and involving far more blood than he would ever be willing to study. Even he had his limits.

Fish, he thought, were another. He admired their innate tendency to go where they were taken. He envied their naturally lower body temperature (were that he could conserve energy by simply operating with a colder internal temperature, he could not begin to fathom all that he might accomplish). He enjoyed, quite simply, their many captivating shapes and colors. There had been a time when he had contemplated abandoning his Crest research to study fish instead, but those days had long passed.

Beautiful scenery was the one that had brought him to Dagda in the first place. There was simply so much abroad that one could never experience within Fódlan’s borders.

Well, beautiful scenery and Caspar, that was.

Yes, his oldest and closest companion was the final subject that was interesting enough to occupy Linhardt’s mind, and he was also the single one who inhabited the most of his mental capacity. All these countless years later, and he had still never tired of his presence. His every movement was an elegant dance to Linhardt. Those movements had been clumsy when they were children, but they had grown more and more refined in their time at the Officer’s Academy. He had honed them further during the war. It had pained Linhardt to see the person he cared about most being put directly into danger. That was not to say that Caspar would not have sought it out if he had not been placed in front of it. He had been picking petty fights as long as they had known each other and certainly would have continued to do so in the absence of a war.

Just another reason to be relieved for the relative peace that now resided.

Linhardt had felt relief at abandoning House Hevring, leaving his home behind, and seeing the world with Caspar. Most of what he had seen of their own continent had been while they were at war, hardly a time for sightseeing. It was far more pleasant to see Faerghus and Leicester without constant threat of ambush, after all. They had travelled there together, as friends at first, and then they had travelled beyond as something more than friends. They had seen Sreng and Morfis and now Dagda, and along the way, Caspar had continued to fight anyone who would take him up.

Though he had mellowed out somewhat over the last few years. He no longer sought fights simply for their own sake, but he mostly defended anyone who was being taken advantage of. And Linhardt still patched him up every time, even when he insisted that he didn’t need any healing.

The truth was that he hated seeing Caspar getting into fights and getting hurt, and he always had. What he wanted, above all, was to see him peaceful and comfortable. That was why he was glad that one of their greatest shared joys in their travels had been the many exotic foods that they had tried.

Each country that they had visited had its own regional cuisine and specialties. Approximations of some dishes had been offered at the academy, but they hadn’t done justice to the versions in their original form, with freshly grown, local ingredients. Eating new dishes had been almost as important an experience as seeing the great sights and landmarks in each place that they had visited. That food had started to affect Caspar’s physique. He was still strong, there was no doubt about that, but his muscles had been buried under a soft layer of fat. Caspar always did have a big appetite, after all. He had denied the changes for a long time. Linhardt wasn’t certain whether it had been out of pride or sheer obliviousness, but eventually he had been unable to refuse it any longer.

While Linhardt rather enjoyed teasing Caspar over the weight he had put on, he loved cuddling up to him even more. When they slept at night, Caspar’s belly was more comfortable than any of the most luxurious bedding he had used. In the mornings, he never wanted to leave his warm, squishy embrace.

A stifled cry of pain roused Linhardt from his thoughts. He looked over to see Caspar quickly pulling a glove back over his right hand.

“You’re hurt,” Linhardt observed.

Caspar scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

“Indeed?” Linhardt crossed the small room in three long strides and snatched up the glove, holding it high above his head.

“Hey!” Caspar reached up for the glove, but he was too short to reach it. His shirt rode up over the expanse of his stomach.

“If you’re not hurt,” Linhardt said, “then let me see your hand.” Caspar insistently jumped in the vain attempt to reach his glove. His belly jiggled with each bounce, and something inside Linhardt stirred. He took Caspar by the hand. His knuckles were bruised and scraped, with a noticeable split in the skin between the second and third ones. “See? You’re all scratched up.”

“Yeah, maybe, but it’s nothing you need to worry over,” Caspar’s eyes shifted to the corner of the room. “I just don’t want to seem weak in front of you.”

Linhardt lifted Caspar’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of them. “I would never think that you were weak. Will you please let me heal you?”

Caspar relented. Linhardt let some of his healing magic flow into his partner’s hand. The bruises faded, and the cuts quickly sealed themselves.

Caspar placed his newly-healed hand over his stomach. “I just. . . I don’t look the same as I used to. I don’t want to let myself go, or to let you think that I have. I want to–” Linhardt cut him off with a kiss.

“You’re thinking far too hard about this,” he yawned. “Just being next to you while you think this hard is making me tired. Come on, let’s take a nap.” He took Caspar by the hand and led him to the bed. They laid down. Linhardt rested his head against Caspar’s plush chest and wrapped his arms around Caspar’s stomach. Caspar combed his fingers slowly through Linhardt’s long, soft hair. He drifted off to sleep.

He awoke some time later to the sound of Caspar’s stomach growling. The sun outside their room was just tinged orange with dusk light. He yawned and rubbed the sandy feeling from his eyes. “Good evening, Caspar.”

Caspar kissed Linhardt’s forehead. “Evening.” His stomach growled again.

Linhardt smiled. “How about we go get something to eat?”


End file.
